


Out of Their Depth

by Inzannatea (Zanna23)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Established Phrack, F/M, Horror, Metafiction, Or Is It?, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 03:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/pseuds/Inzannatea
Summary: Phryne and Jack are happily married and expecting a child... or are they?  Fair warning: This is a horror fic, but it has a fluffy happy ending... or does it?Happy Halloween!





	Out of Their Depth

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many people that helped me work this through. Most especially oracleofdoom (huge thanks for the "Wake Up" inspiration), leafingthroughbooksandtea, whopooh, and Quailitea  
> Special thanks to ollyjay for all the advice.... including, amazingly the technical advice ;-D ... and scruggzi for, well, you know everything.  
> 

` “It’ll be alright,” Jack said gently to his wife. `

` “I… I don’t know how it can be,” Phryne answered her husband. `

` “We’ll figure it out together,” Jack soothed her. His hand rubbed softly on her growing belly. “Why don’t you get some rest, darling?” `

` “Of course. You’re right. I am very tired,” Phryne’s brow bunched in concern for a moment, then she turned to Jack, “join me? Just for a little while?” `

` “I think it’s best given the excitement of today, that we not be too amorous yet,” Jack said carefully, but full of concern. `

` “I just want you to hold me for a while,” Phryne pleaded with her husband. `

` “I’d be delighted, Mrs. Robinson.” `

` A sharp pain stabbed at her forehead, she flinched and shook her head softly. `

` “Are you alright, Phryne?” Jack paused his caressing to look at her with worried care. `

` She didn’t know where that sharp pain came from. It was a bit like the pain she’d felt when eating ice cream too quickly. It seemed to be happening more and more lately, especially as she tired. She did not want to worry Jack yet again, however. `

` “I’m fine,” she said softly, “Just tired. Shall we go lie down?”  He continued to study her carefully for a few seconds and then stood, offering her his hand to assist her increasingly difficult extraction from the chaise. `

` They retired to their bedchamber. Phryne took off her necklace and earrings before sitting on the bed. The pain was less in the dim light of the room, but there was a throbbing ache that followed the sharp initial pain. `

` Jack fitted his body against her back. His large hand spanned over her firm round belly. He loved the feel of her in this state. When he was lucky, he sometimes felt movement. `

` Despite the pain, she felt her eyes drifting shut. `

` Images started to flash in her mind.  `

Life before England. Before marriage. Before fear.

` It all went dark as she drifted to sleep. `

She was cold and couldn’t move, she blinked her eyes to try to help them adjust. The air smelled damp, the overpowering scent of mold and mud. Across from her, she could make out a familiar shape tied to a chair. “Jack!” her voice was hoarse. As if she hadn’t used it in ages. “Jack! Wake up!”

She looked down and realized that, like Jack, she too was tied to a chair. She also realized she had a flat belly again. Where was her baby?  _ Baby? _ Where did that thought come from? She wasn’t pregnant. She knew better than that.

“JACK!” she said louder.

“Nngh?” he responded.

She struggled against the ropes, not feeling much—if any—give in them. The chair moved with her struggle. That could come in handy.

“Jack, wake up,” she demanded again.

“Wha…where? Miss Fisher? What… where are we?” he blinked against the dark as well. He tried moving his hand to his face only to discover his arms—along with the rest of him—were bound.

“I don’t know, Jack,” she said, “Nowhere I’d like to stay for long. Can you get free at all?”

She watched him struggle a bit, “No. I don’t think so. You?”

She shook her head, “Not so far. I might be able to loosen that knot if we were closer.”

He glanced down at where her head was indicating. His eyebrows rose in recognition, as he tilted his head. “Might work.”

They scooted their chairs closer to one another.

“I’ve often thought of tying you up, Inspector,” she smirked at him as they shuffled closer, “It works better if at least ONE of us is free.”

Jack rolled his eyes at her, “As… stimulating… as that thought might be, Miss Fisher,” he sassed back, “I think we may want to focus on gaining our freedom.”

She pursed her lips I thought, “Spoilsport.”

“Can you reach the knot?” he tried to get her back on task.

“Just barely. This may take a while.”

Her fingertips were barely gaining purchase on the rope, but with patience she thought she could work it loose.

_ WUMPTH! _

They both froze as they heard the sound of a door closing somewhere overhead. Creaking footfalls followed.

They stayed absolutely still save their eyes pointlessly following the sound of the footfalls. The sound of a chair scraping on the floor, and a heavy groaning creak as the footfalls stopped. They continued looking at the section of ceiling below the unseen chair occupant for a minute before chancing a glance at each other. Phryne cast her eyes down at the knot again, and at Jack’s nod of acknowledgment, started working on it again.

**_Click-clack-click-clack-click-clack-click-clack-click-clack-click-clack-click-clack-click-clack-click-Zipp-DING_ **

**_Click-clack-click-clack-click-clack_ **

Phryne’s attention was caught by Jack’s head snapping back. He had passed out. “Jack? JACK?!”

 

` “Jack?” her voice was thick with sleep. She blinked rapidly against the light streaming across their bed. She reached her arm over to his side. It was cool. He’d been gone some time. `

` A wave of nausea overcame her. She mostly had left these bouts behind, but occasionally the sickness reared its ugly head. She hoisted herself out of bed, ran to the en suite, and just made it to the toilet in time to heave her last meal into it. She felt immediately better. `

` As she walked to the sink to wash her face and teeth, she glanced at herself in the mirror. `

“WAKE UP!” her reflection screamed at her and pounded on the opposite side of the glass.  ` Phryne blinked heavily, squeezing her eyes shut. She timidly opened them again, terrified to see the hallucination again, but when she opened her eyes, she saw only her reflection copying her opposite moves. `

` Phryne shook her head in worry. Mac had warned her that pregnancy could wreak havoc with her emotional well-being, but hallucinations were new. Part of her thought it would be a good idea to tell Mac about this development, but Mac had so much going on--and had been so dismissive of her fears, Phryne didn’t want to worry her. `

` The sharp pain returned to her head. “This isn't right!”  a thought crashed into her consciousness. `

` Perhaps a bath would help. `

` She began running the bathwater, adding some of her favorite scents to the tub as she did. She knew telling Jack was the right thing to do, but these new hallucinations were terrifying. How could she hope to explain it to him? `

` When the water was deep enough, she shed her pajamas and sank into the warm embrace of the water. Her hands massaged her belly, “Why must you mess with mummy’s head, so? How am I ever going to be able to be a mother to you if you can turn me upside down and you aren’t even here yet?” A panic hit her as she realized the weight of her words to her unborn child. She wasn’t cut out for motherhood. How could she ever be the mother this child needed? THIS IS A LIE… WAKE UP! ` The violence of the thought knocked the air out of her lungs.` `

Phryne gasped loudly as the mold and mud smell invaded her senses again. What in the hell was going on? She glanced at Jack. He was still unconscious. Still tied to a chair.

Heavy footfalls were moving above her. She heard the creak of a door behind her followed by the sound of stairs groaning under strain. 

THUMPcreak… THUMPcreak... THUMPcreak… THUMPcreak... THUMPcreak… THUMPcreak...

“Naughty, naughty, Phryne,” a feminine voice said behind her. She felt her chair dragged away from Jack. The room was dark and the voice stayed out of her line of sight, “You need to settle down now.”

“Who are you? What have you done to us?” Phryne’s voice was firm and angry.

“I’m... no one in particular. Just a fan,” said the voice.

“A fan?” Phryne was confused, “What do you mean, a fan? A fan of what?”

“Of yours certainly, but most especially of this... beautiful man,” said the voice, “a fan of your life together.”

“We don’t have a life together, we’re colleagues… that’s all,” Phryne insisted.

“No! That’s not true! You are so much more to each other! I know it!” the voice was agitated, “Jack kissed you! You love him! I know it!”

Phryne tried to remember the last thing that felt true that she could remember. She remembered the kiss. So full of hope— and promise of something more. And an overture. She challenged Jack to come after her. His eyes told her he was ready to take up the challenge. And then she remembered seeing him looking up as the ground fell away beneath her… and then…  _ nothing _ . She woke up here.

“I care for Jack, deeply… but we are really only friends,” Phryne said carefully. This feminine voice behind her sounded deeply disturbed. She didn’t want to put herself, or more importantly—Jack—at risk. “Perhaps, given time we could be something more…”

“Exactly! That’s just it! There wasn’t time! You flew away and then never saw him again! I’m fixing it. You belong together and then you FLEW AWAY FROM HIM! YOU LEFT HIM!” the voice shrilled, “I’m making it RIGHT. And I’m not going to let you ruin it!!”

Phryne felt a pin-prick at the back of her neck followed by an oozing warmth. The stairs groaned angrily as the voice stomped up the stairs and the loud SLAM of the door.    

Phryne was feeling woozy. Clearly, she’d been injected with something.

“Jack, wake up… I need you to help me fight this!” she shouted at him. The edges of her vision were beginning to blur, “Jack! Wake up!”

The scent of mold and mud started to give way to vanilla and lavender.

` The fear seized her heart. “Breathe, Phryne… this is all just hormones,” she attempted to convince herself. The bathwater had grown cold. `

`She extracted herself from the bath. Wrapping herself in a towel. The towel barely closed over her prominent belly. _Click-clack-click-clack-click-Zipp-DING—_  Who was typing?`

` She avoided looking at herself in the mirror as she made her way to the wardrobe. She selected her black trousers and matching shell.  She pulled her trousers up her legs and then realized they were not going to fasten across her enormous belly. How could she forget that these don’t fit any more? She peeled them off and checked the wardrobe again. There were many beautiful dresses that she didn’t recognize. The looked large enough to fit her girth, so she grabbed the navy blue one and proceeded to get dressed.  `

` She needed to find Jack. Figuring he would be at City South, she walked down the stairs with her goal in mind. `

` “Hello dear,” a disarmingly familiar voice said from the parlor as she hit the entryway. Phryne’s head whipped toward the voice in a panic. The woman seemed familiar but she couldn’t quite place her. Wait… no… that was Jack’s mother! How could she forget her mother-in-law? `

` “How did you sleep, dear?” the woman smiled serenely at her. The woman was knitting a baby bonnet. `

` “Oh. I slept well, Mrs. Robinson. Thank you for asking.” `

` “Phryne dear, you’re family now,” said the woman gently, “Please call me Cecilia.” `

` “Of course. I’m sorry… Cecilia,” Phryne smiled wanly. `

` “You look tired, Phryne,” Cecilia said softly, “Perhaps you should rest.” `

` “I just woke up. I need to go see Jack,” Phryne protested. `

` “Are you sure you want to bother him? He’s busy with an investigation,” Jack’s mother responded in a sweet tone of voice, “Wouldn’t want you to hurt the baby. Wouldn’t want to ruin things.” `

` The sharp pain returned to her head. `

` “No. No… wouldn’t want to hurt the baby,” she repeated as if she were chanting a mantra, “What if I hurt the baby? I’m so reckless!” Panic seized her. `

` “Dear Phryne, nothing is going to happen. You are doing so well! Just keep focusing on the baby. If anything goes wrong, we can fix it. It will be alright. We can fix it,” Cecilia soothed. `

**_Click-clack-click-clack-click-Zipp-DING_  **

` “Did you hear that?” Phryne looked alarmed. Eyes darting around the room. `

` “Did I hear what, dear?” Cecilia asked quietly, gazing on Phryne with concern. `

` “Is someone typing?” Phryne started moving toward the kitchen. `

` “I don’t hear anything. Perhaps you’re just tired. You don’t have long to go now. The baby could come at any time. Why don’t you take a nap and I’ll call Jack for you?” the older woman offered helpfully. `

` Phryne nodded, “You’re always right, Cecilia. Your kindness is more than I deserve.” `

` She walked listlessly back to the bedroom she shared with her husband, and reclined in resignation. `

“Phryne! WAKE UP!”

Mold and mud invaded her senses. “Jack? I thought you had an investigation? Where are...?”

Flashes of memory hit her, the kiss at the airfield, conversations with who was that woman?  _ Her mother-in-law? _ She’d never met Jack’s mother… or even heard about a mother. And married? She and Jack weren’t married!

“Are you awake, Miss Fisher?” Jack’s voice sounded rough.

“I… I don’t even know,” Phryne answered honestly, “Jack, what’s the last thing you really remember before waking up here?”

He raised his eyebrows in thought, “I… well… um,” he sounded slightly embarrassed.

Phryne rolled her eyes, “Do you remember kissing me at the airfield?”

His eyes met hers, softening. “I do,” he cleared his throat, “I remember that very vividly, Miss Fisher. You… you asked me to come after you.”

“Did you?” she asked.

He wrinkled his brow, “I… I meant to. I remember you flying away with your father and then… everything faded to black. The next thing I knew you were shouting at me in this room.”

“I wasn’t shouting, I was trying to wake you up!” she countered, “What’s important right now is we figure out what’s going on.”

“Agreed,” he nodded at her.

“Jack?” she started shyly after a pause, “Do you remember being married…”

“I… uh... of course,” Jack said in confusion.

“No… not to Rosie. Do you remember being married to me? And us expecting a child?” she tried to clarify carefully.

Jack gaped at her, “I… I… had a dream,” his voice was hoarse with emotion, “I thought it was a dream? You… we… yes.”

“Do you remember the footsteps above us?” Jack silently nodded at her question.

“Our host,” she said with a grimace, “Claims to be a ‘fan’ of ours.”

“A fan? I don’t understand.”

“A fan of our work… our investigations. She seems to think we  _ belong  _ together,” Phryne explained.

“Ah,” Jack met her eyes, trying to work out what she thought about this. She gifted him with a fond smile. Even in the dim light she could tell he was blushing.

“She appears to have some sort of… well, it doesn’t make any sense, but she seems to think she can ‘fix’ us to be who she wants us to be. Before you passed out last time, I heard typing. I don’t understand how, but I think she’s trying to rewrite our lives,” Phryne had gazed ahead, not really seeing Jack, but searching her own mind for a way to piece this all together.

“Paper dolls,” Jack said simply breaking her internal analysis.

She quirked an eyebrow at him in query.

“Paper dolls,” Jack tried to clarify, “My sister… when we were children… she used to play with paper dolls. She would create stories and scenes for her paper dolls to act out. It sounds like our captor is playing with our memories like paper dolls.”

Phryne smiled at her clever partner.

**_Click-clack-click-clack-click-Zipp-DING_ **

“Oh no, Jack… try to remember what’s real!”

“Phryne? Phryne?!” he watched as she slipped into unconsciousness.

` “Phryne?” Jack leaned in and lightly kissed his wife on her temple, “Phryne, love, wake up. You need to wake up.” `

` “Jack?” she turned in confusion, “When did you get home?” `

` “Just a little bit ago. Mum said you’ve been asleep for hours.” He leaned in to kiss her gently. `

` It was a sweet and loving kiss, full of familiarity and warmth. Phryne was thoroughly enjoying it. Jack pulled away from her lips and ran a finger down her face, “You are so beautiful.” `

` “Paper dolls,” Phryne said sleepily. `

` Jack pulled back more, his mouth dropping open, “What did you say?” `

` “Hmm… What? I didn’t…“ her eyes widened as she woke more fully, “Jack. What’s happening?” `

` He looked down the body of the woman he loved…  the woman he loved in any reality… ` noting her prominent belly. His child, she was carrying his child…  but how, if they’d never?  ` He blinked in confusion. ` ` `

` “I don’t know. We were tied up? I…” she could tell he was fighting to find purchase in a reality that made sense. `

` There was a knock at the door. `

` Jack’s mother entered without waiting for a response. “I’m so sorry to intrude on you two love birds, but how are you feeling dear? You had me so worried.” `

That voice. Phryne looked at her mother-in-law in horror. That voice was the same voice as their captor.  ` She dug her fingertips into Jack’s arm, causing him to turn to her and look at her in confusion. `

` “Jack, dear, can you go tell Mr. Butler we’ll be down for dinner directly?” Cecilia asked gently, “I’ll help Phryne get ready.” `

` “Of course, Mum,” the good son answered. He kissed Phryne softly and extracted himself from the bed.” `

` As they heard his footfalls going down the stairs in search of Mr. Butler, Phryne’s mother-in-law turned to her and smiled. `

` “You two are so perfect together,” she said softly, “Mind you take care of yourself. It would be devastating if anything happened to either of you. You have one job now, Phryne. Being the best mother you can be to my grandchild. I’d hate to see you fail. You can’t let Jack down. Think of his happiness.” `

` Phryne’s mind filled with fear. She couldn’t let Jack down. Not when she was carrying his child. She needed to get her head in the right place. No more worrying Jack. He had such a difficult job—she really shouldn’t be doing anything to worry him. The only thing that mattered was his happiness. `

` “Come along now, dear,” Cecilia encouraged her, “We don’t want to keep Jack waiting.” `

` “Can’t keep Jack waiting,” Phryne responded. `

` Jack’s mother helped her out of bed and steered her down the stairs to the dining room. `

` Jack came forward from the kitchen to meet them, “Shall we? Mr. Butler will be serving any minute.” `

Phryne desperately searched his eyes for some recognition of their earlier conversation. She saw none.

` “I… I’ll just be a moment,” Phryne excused herself and headed toward the lavatory. She peeked behind her to see that Cecilia hadn’t followed her and continued past the lavatory to her office. `

` She quietly shut the door. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but there had to be a clue as to what she was going through somewhere. `

` She looked at the desk. Correspondence marked “Mrs. Phryne Robinson” immediately caught her attention. She sat heavily at the desk. She glanced to her left and spied Jack’s unabridged Shakespeare. `

She picked it up and flipped through it to Antony and Cleopatra. The there was a break in the spine here indicating frequent visits. She looked down at the words on the page:

> _ Nemo enim ipsam voluptatem, quia voluptas sit, aspernatur aut odit aut fugit, sed quia consequuntur magni dolores eos, qui ratione voluptatem sequi nesciunt, neque porro quisquam est, qui do _ **_l_ ** _ orem ipsum _

` “What in the world?” she said quietly to herself. `

` She flipped through to another page: `

> _ Nemo enim ipsam voluptatem, quia voluptas sit, aspernatur aut odit aut fugit, sed quia consequuntur magni dolores eos, qui ratione voluptatem sequi nesciunt, neque porro quisquam est, qui do _ **_l_ ** _ orem ipsum _

` She grabbed another book off the shelf and flipped it open at random: `

> _ Nemo enim ipsam voluptatem, quia voluptas sit, aspernatur aut odit aut fugit, sed quia consequuntur magni dolores eos, qui ratione voluptatem sequi nesciunt, neque porro quisquam est, qui do _ **_l_ ** _ orem ipsum _

` She opened the top letter on her desk. The outside indicated it was from her bank. She unfolded the letter and read: `

> _ Nemo enim ipsam voluptatem, quia voluptas sit, aspernatur aut odit aut fugit, sed quia consequuntur magni dolores eos, qui ratione voluptatem sequi nesciunt, neque porro quisquam est, qui do _ **_l_ ** _ orem ipsum _

` “What are you doing, dear?” her mother-in-law’s voice startled her from her discovery. `

` Her voice trembled slightly in response, “I… I just remembered there was a bill that I needed to pay.” `

` “Dinner is ready, child. Come along,” the woman with the eerily sweet voice responded. `

` Phryne smiled tightly, “Yes, of course, Cecilia.” She stood. As she stood, she palmed the fountain pen from the desk. `

` Dinner was a quiet affair. Each of the three around the table eyeing the other with tacit suspicion. They talked only sparingly and with naught but shallow content. The last course was cleared and the trio retired to the parlor. Jack poured a whisky for his mother and for himself and a club soda for his bride. `

` “Jack?” Phryne spoke softly. `

` “Yes, my love?” `

` “Dance with me?” `

` “I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out… not in your condition,” he admonished. `

` “No… I mean here. In the parlor. Dance with me,” she pleaded. `

` He stood, offering her a hand up, “I’d be delighted. What’s your pleasure? A waltz perhaps?” `

` “Something a little more modern this time,” she moved toward the phonograph. `

` “Gershwin? Porter? Rogers?” he guessed. `

` “Johnny Black,” she cut off further guessing with the answer. `

` “Dardandella?” He asked after thinking through the albums he knew they had. `

` “No, his newest,” she took the disc out of the sleeve and placed it on the phonograph. The crackling preceded the opening bars as Phryne moved gracefully toward Jack. She kissed him gently. She could feel her mother-in-law’s eyes on them. “I’m sorry,” she said nearly silently against his lips as she pulled away. The voice of an up-and-going-nowhere nobody warbled through the built-in speakers of the phonograph. `

> _ I'm gonna buy a Paper Doll that I can call my own _
> 
> _ A doll that other fellows cannot steal _

` Jack stiffened in her arms . `

>   _And then the flirty, flirty guys with their flirty, flirty eyes_

` He pulled back to look at this woman who meant everything to him. `

>   _Will have to flirt with dollies that are real_

She searched his eyes for some glimmer of “her” Jack. 

> _ When I come home at night she will be waiting _

` _ Paper dolls.  _ Why did that sound familiar to him. In the back of his mind, something was screaming at him to pay attention. `

> _ She'll be the truest doll in all this world _

` He searched her eyes in return. He could see her desperate pleading with him to catch on. They were normally so in rhythm. What was he missing? `

> _ I'd rather have a Paper Doll to call my own _

The scent of mold and mud invaded his senses as memories that didn’t fit into this life came rushing into his consciousness. He was still in the parlor with Phryne and who was that woman? He’d never seen her before.  _ Mum, _ teased at the corners of his mind. But his mother had been gone for years.

>   _Than have a fickle minded real live girl_

 Thoughts of his real mother hit him. Phryne felt him tense dramatically. Memories true and false were fighting for dominance. The joy of his marriage to Phryne. The kiss as she flew away. The timid anxiety of over a pregnancy that wasn’t real. The unresolved tension between them. Thoughts of physical love that lacked detail. Lacked passion. Lacked the tastes and smells and sensations of love.

He stopped moving to the music. He could see from her eyes, she knew. She felt it, too. She knew this wasn’t the real world. He closed his eyes, tilting his head forward to rest his forehead against hers.

` “Is everything alright, Jack?” the woman who was not his mother stood, eyeing the pair with concern. `

` Jack pulled back, kissing Phryne on the forehead as he rubbed his hands down her arms. She turned toward Cecilia. `

` “Who are you?” Phryne narrowed her eyes at the woman. `

` Jack’s not-mother recoiled placing her hand on her chest, “Who am… Phryne, you know who I am. Jack?” `

` Jack shook his head at the woman some part of him thought he should know. `

**_Click-clack-click-clack_ **

` “Jack? I’m your mother,” Cecilia said. `

` Jack’s jaw clenched.  _ She is my mother. She is… she isn’t. Why can’t I break away from her? Who is this woman? _ A war of emotions raged in his head. `

“Jack, stay with me,” Phryne said from his embrace. From his embrace, but her voice sounded muffled and distant.

` “You left him. Why should he stay with you?” the normally placid tone and sweet face barely contained a sneer, “You need to trust me. I’m fixing your mistakes," she turned towards Jack, “I can help you have everything you want!” `

“By turning us into mockeries of everything we are?” Phryne bit back, “What gives you the right—”

` _ THWACK! _ `

` Cecilia slapped Phryne hard across the face. It was quickly done, with no telegraphing of motion. `

 

Mold and mud flooded her senses. She could still feel the sting on her cheek. She was no longer in the parlor, but in the mysterious basement. Jack was still across the room, head lolling as he tried to wake up.

There was something cylindrical in Phryne’s palm that hadn’t been there before. She flexed her fingers to grip it with her fingertips, realizing that it was the pen she had picked up in her office.  _ How? How did…?  _ She would worry about that later, she decided. For now, all that mattered was she now had a tool. A tool she could use to escape. Her nimble fingers removed the cap and it dropped to the dirt floor with a quiet  _ thnff _ .

Phryne turned to pen around in her fingers, being very careful not to drop it. She angled the nib toward the ropes and started pressing through the fibers with the sharp tip. She could feel the cool wetness of the ink bleeding onto her skin. No matter.

The first layer of rope split giving her a little more flexibility to maneuver.

“Jack, stay with me,” she hissed in whisper at the man struggling to wake up.

 

“Phryne?” his groggy voice asked.

 

“Wake up, Jack,” the second rope snapped, “Stay with me.”

 

` “Jack… think about the baby!” his not-mother pleaded with him, “I’m trying to help you get everything you ever wanted. Don’t you want that? Phryne as your wife? A child of your own? You need to trust me… I’m fixing it for you.” `

` He looked down at his wi—… his Phryne… no. Phryne was trembling, she seemed to be struck mute, but her eyes were begging him to reject this world. She wasn’t “his” Phryne. The real Phryne was her own. Or she should be. `

` Jack narrowed his eyes at Cecilia, “No. What I want is for Phryne to be Phryne. Not some shell of a person. Not a paper doll acting out your fantasies of what you think I want!” `

` Cecilia laughed bitterly, “You fool. You’re nothing but figments of a writer’s imagination. A writer who didn’t want you to be together. I am fixing that for you!” `

` Jack gaped at her. She was a madwoman. Nothing but figments? That couldn’t be true. He had feelings and thoughts and…  _ it wasn’t true. _ `

 

“Wake up, Jack,” he heard Phryne calling him. He closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them, he found himself in the dark, dank cellar. He looked across the room to see Phryne had freed her right arm. It was stained at the wrist, and splatters of… was that blood? No. Ink? Yes.

“Where did you get the pen?” Jack asked sleepily.

“Long story.”

Above them they heard a deep scream of frustration, “AAARRRGGGHHH!! YOU MUST DO AS I WRITE!”

_ THWHAM! _

Something heavy hit the floor just above their heads.

“NO!” a wail of despair rose gooseflesh on their skin. Phryne continued working loose her ropes.

The sound of heavy footsteps moving quickly. The door screeched at the violence of the yank open and then slammed heavily into the wall.

Phryne was almost free.

Groaning creaking footfalls down the stairs. Groaning faster than before.

“You should have trusted me!” the writer said blinking against the darkness as she came into view at the bottom of the stairs, “Anything that happens now is  _ your _ fault!”

She looked around. Jack was still tied to the chair, staring her down defiantly. Phryne was… where was Phryne?

Their captor whipped around, eyes wild.

Out of the darkness, a small but powerful set of fists slammed into her face.

The woman’s head snapped violently up and then to the right as Phryne’s fists made crunchingly solid contact with each side of the woman’s chin. The combination of shock, unsteady footing, and an unexpectedly powerful left uppercut, right hook knocked her the woman out.

“Ow.” Phryne looked at her hands and realized that her knuckles had split open.

“Are you alright?” Jack said from across the room.

Her eyes traveled to his, “I will be. She has a hard head.” She hurried over to Jack and began to untie him. Fingers moving gingerly with the sharp pain of her knuckles. When she had freed him, he stood taking her hands in his.

Jack examined Phryne’s knuckles carefully, his brow creasing in concern. “I don’t think you’ve broken anything save skin.”  There was a dark stain of ink along her arm, and a few points of blood there as well. She’d evidently jabbed her forearm a few times in her attempts to cut through the rope.

He brought her hands to his mouth and placed feather-soft kisses on each knuckle. Phryne’s breath hitched as she watched his lips.

“Why didn’t you stay?” Phryne asked tentatively, “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“What I wanted,” he said placing a tender kiss on her wrist, “Is you.”

“Oh.”

“Also, didn’t you order me to come after you, Miss Fisher?”

She grinned at him, “It wasn’t an order. It was a challenge!”

He smiled back at her. Then twisted his brows.

“What happened to the pen?” Jack asked, still holding her hands.

“The pen?” she said confused.

“Well, you used your fists to fight her. I always thought the pen was mightier,” Jack smirked.

Phryne rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked back up into a smile.

A pained moan snapped their attention to the lump on the floor.

“I suppose we should see to that,” Phryne sighed, tilting her head toward the sound.

Jack pursed his lips, “I still don’t understand how she did it. Or why.”

“I think I understand some of the why,” Phryne said turning away from Jack completely to grab the rope he’d recently been bound by, “but, no, I really don’t understand how. Honestly, I quite like the idea of being able to live multiple lives, living countless adventures, but perhaps holding us captive wasn't the best way to do that!” she  sighed, “Tie her up and maybe we can find out more when she wakes up.” She handed the rope to Jack.

“Miss Fisher? Uh… Phryne?”

“Yes, Jack?”

“When this is all sorted… would you like to join me for… an intimate dinner?” Jack blushed slightly. He mentally kicked himself. Not for being forward. He had already decided on his course of action. But it occurred to him that asking his object of affection to join him in such a brazen way… while restraining a suspect… might be a little gauche.

Phryne met his eyes, gracing him with an adoring smile, “More than anything, Jack.”

  
_**Click-clack-click-clack-click-Zipp-DING** _

**Author's Note:**

> It is not my intent to mock or disparage any other writer's work. I thought it would be interesting to explore this idea from a horror perspective. To take some tried and true concepts and tweak them up to the point of horror. I've often thought that the most disturbing horror is a circus mirror held up to society... so I thought I'd try it with fandom.
> 
> I fought with myself about posting this because I can see where someone might see this as attacking fan fiction as a genre and MFMM fandom in particular. I don't think that fic is bad. I write it. In doing this exercise, I considered what _I_ felt would be most disturbing for Phryne, which is becoming highly domesticated and submissive. Not everyone thinks that, and I respect that.


End file.
